Adam settled in the armchair with the wonky back leg. Immediately the other two dogs who’d been shadowing his every move lay at his feet. On his feet.
“Um, Adam, your dog is bald,” Lexi whispered over the top of the dogs’ heads.
Adam nodded. “Yeah, Bella’s got skin problems.”
“Bella?” Lexi snorted. “And is that other creature a dog? He looks like a hyena. Not that I’m criticizing.”
“Poor Lucky”—Adam bent to pat the dog—“we can’t all be beauties.”
Was that a barb? Lexi wondered. A reference to her vanity? She couldn’t interpret every remark anyone made, she’d go mad. She asked her brother, “So you’ve moved back to the island?”
“Two months ago. I was working up in Boston, at Angel Memorial, and heard they needed a vet at the MSPCA on the island, and here I am.”
“That’s so great! Where are you living?”
“I bought a small cottage on Crooked Lane.”
“He knows he could live here,” Myrna interjected with a sniff.
“Mom,” Adam said patiently, “I’m thirty-three years old.”
“So,” Lexi asked, “how’s your love life?”
Adam groaned.
Myrna’s face lit up. “He’s dating Melanie Clark!”
“I’m hungry,” Fred said. “I’m going to order pizzas. Two large deluxe, okay? No one’s become a vegetarian recently?”
“Okay,” Lexi told her father, then turned her attention back to Adam. “Melanie Clark. I remember her. The sweetest girl, and so pretty. What’s she doing now?”
“Teaching elementary school,” Adam told them. “Fourth grade.”
“Is this serious?”
“Maybe!” Myrna said hopefully.
Adam was firm. “No.”
Fred ordered the pizzas, then carried the phone with him as he settled back in his chair. “Twenty minutes. I’ll pick it up.”
“How’s Clare?” Lexi asked.
Myrna smiled fondly. “She’s doing very well. Her shop, Sweet Hart’s, is thriving, and I heard she got a ring from Jesse this Christmas.”
“Has Jesse grown up any?” Lexi asked.
Adam gave her a look. “Do you mean has he stopped sleeping around?”
Lexi’s father made a face. He hated sex talk.
“So,” Myrna changed the subject, turning toward Lexi. “Tell us about you.”
Lexi hesitated. “Well, you know I’m divorced. I’m not sorry I got divorced. But I’m not sorry I married Ed, either. I had a few amazing years.”
“You certainly got to travel a lot,” Myrna said coolly.
“The traveling was the best part of the marriage, actually. And I suppose I grew up a bit. But I always missed Nantucket. I didn’t expect to, and yet, when I had to decide where to live, I knew at once I wanted to come home.”
Adam nodded. “I know just what you mean. You can’t wait to leave, and then you can’t stand to live anywhere else.”
“It’s true. Nantucket is, well, magical.”
“But how do you intend to make a living?” Her mother’s face wrinkled with concern.
“Believe me, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I know what I love and what I’m good at. I’m opening a clothing shop.”
Her father frowned. “I’m not sure that’s such a workable idea, Lexi. You know what happened to our shop. And rents have gotten exorbitantly expensive around here.”
Lexi nodded. “Yes, I know. That’s why my shop will be upscale. And my merchandise will be special.”
Adam lifted his wineglass to her in a toast. “Good for you, Lex.”
“Thanks, Adam.”
Myrna squinted her eyes. “How special?”
“My own designs. I’ve got a seamstress I know in New York who will be making the clothes. Well, she and her staff. She did a lot of alterations and custom work for me when we lived in New York, and I got to know her and respect her work.”
“It’s a lot of work, running a business,” her father warned her. “Not much glamour, lots of window washing and paperwork.”
Lexi leaned forward. “I know, Dad, I remember how it was at the store. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Fred continued, “how are you paying for your inventory?”
Lexi wasn’t surprised by the question. She knew money would always be a touchy subject with her parents. “I’m not rich,” she admitted. “I stupidly signed a prenuptial agreement when I married Ed that leaves me with, basically, nothing. No alimony, nothing like that. But I did come away with a lot of amazing jewelry and designer clothing. I sold most of it, and that’s what I’m using to start this store.”
Her father was quiet a moment, considering. “Well,” he said slowly, “this all sounds very exciting.”
Lexi’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Dad, I know I was a horrible little snot when I was nineteen. I know I said a lot of really stupid, hurtful things, and I’m so so sorry about that. Perhaps I was just too young to know how much I loved my family, or how much I love this island.”
Fred was beginning to get that pinched look he got when things got too emotional. He cleared his throat. Myrna’s attention was fixated on the dogs.
Again, Adam came to the rescue. “About your shop, Lex. You’ll have to join the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Good idea, Adam!” Lexi brightened, glad to be out of the Slough of Remorse and up on firmer emotional ground. “I need all the advice I can get. But I have a shop space and a living space. I came to the island two weeks ago and looked at rental properties, and I’ve signed the contract, and tonight I’ll sleep in my new apartment and tomorrow I’ll start organizing my shop for its grand opening in July!”
“Where is it?” Fred asked.
“On Commercial Wharf. The brick building.”
“You mean the duplex where Clare’s shop is?” Myrna asked. When Lexi nodded, she said, “Well, have you spoken to Clare?”
“Not yet,” Lexi said. “I’ve got some apologies to make there, too.”
Her father rose. “Time to get the pizza.”
“I’ll ride in with you,” Adam said.
“Come into the kitchen with me,” Myrna told Lexi. “We can make a salad.”
At the end of the evening, Lexi drove back to her new home on the wharf. Her parents didn’t invite her to stay in her old room, and that was fine. She wanted to be on her own. She was the new, improved, grown-up Lexi, and as she drove along Lower Orange Street, past Marine Home Center and Hatch’s and Orange Street Video, she looked at it with affection, remembering how, when she was nineteen, this same street, these same buildings, all weathered gray shingles and low to the ground, had seemed shabby to her, and unfashionable—rural. She had craved city lights, skyscrapers, opera houses, fabulous shops.
And now here she was, back on the island. True, the island itself had changed in the past eleven years, becoming more sophisticated—and more expensive. But she had changed, too.
She parked her car on the cobblestones, crossed the narrow lane, slid her key into the lock, and went into the silent building. She climbed the stairs, opened the door, and entered the long empty room. Moonlight spilled in from the wide windows. For a while she leaned against the window, entranced by the shimmering path of white moonlight on black water. She had missed this so.
She wished she could stay awake all night, just staring out at the harbor.
But an enormous yawn overtook her, making her eyes water and her jaw nearly crack, so she unloaded her duffel bag and shoved her clothing around to make a kind of nest on the floor. She folded up some sweaters for a pillow, and spread her coat over her for a blanket, and as she curled up on her funny little pallet, she was deeply content.
ELEVEN
“So what’s the scoop?” Jesse demanded.
“Hang on.” Clare untied her apron, settled in her chair, and looked around, savoring this moment. Jesse stared at her like a sleek tawny-pelted mountain lion, captured an
d tamed at her table.
Clare waited an extra beat, enjoying the power of possessing good gossip. Outside, the spring wind whirled, but it was cozy in the kitchen, and her father was in a good mood, really enjoying his steak.
“Come on,” Jesse said. “The suspense is killing me.”
Clare announced, “Lexi’s back in town.”
Jesse looked puzzled. “In April?”
“She’s not here to visit. She’s moving back.”
Jesse snorted. “What? She and Daddy Warbucks building a McMansion so she can lord it over the rest of us?”
“Not at all.” Clare was surprised to find a hot spurt of protectiveness warm her blood. Where did that come from after all these years? “They’re divorced. She’s moving back here by herself. She’s going to open a business here. In fact, she’s rented the shop space next to mine.”
Jesse put his fork down. He looked at Clare. “Babe, don’t get your hopes up.”
Clare arched an eyebrow. “What hopes would that be?”
“That you and Lexi are going to be best buddies again. That she won’t be the snob she was when she met that crook and left the island.”
“Oh, come off it, Jesse.” Clare sipped her wine and gave her fiancé a knowing look. “You didn’t like Lexi even before she met Ed Hardin. You never liked Lexi.”
Jesse grumbled, “Lexi’s arrogant.”
Clare argued, “Jesse, Lexi was shy, not arrogant. Remember, Jesse, those friends of yours who went drooling after her trying to get in her pants when she turned sixteen were the same guys who made fun of her when she hit five foot ten at age twelve and wore braces and had no boobs.” The memory made her mad all over again. “When she turned sixteen, suddenly all those guys wanted to”—she glanced at her father and toned down her language—“get her in bed. They didn’t know her. They didn’t care for her.”
“They didn’t get the chance to know her,” Jesse shot back. “Since she never spoke to anyone. And I don’t buy that shy stuff. If she was so shy, why wasn’t she shy around Ed Hardin?”
“I don’t know,” Clare admitted. Those last few weeks with Lexi had been so messed up. “Anyway, the rest of us sure made plenty of mistakes when we were young.”
Jesse responded by stuffing salad in his face like a rabbit machine, and Jesse hated salad. Clare knew he was trying to think of a way to change the direction the conversation was taking, away from the topic of all the mistakes he’d made, all the times he’d been unfaithful to Clare. She didn’t want to go there, either. And she remembered how jealous Jesse had been of her closeness to Lexi. The bad thing about Jesse disliking Lexi had been that she was always torn between the two people she loved most. The good thing was that Lexi was the one island female who’d never slept with Jesse.
She cut a bite of steak and chewed. “Good steak, huh, Dad?”
“Your mother always liked Lexi,” her father said. “Even when Lexi went off with that Hardin bastard, she stuck up for her.” His face softened with memory.
“That’s right, Dad.” Clare was pleased that her father had joined the conversation.
“Your mother was as nice as they come.” Deftly, Jesse changed the subject. “Clare, there’s a storm story on the Weather Channel I’ve been wanting to see. Would you mind if your father and I had our dessert in the den?”
Clare flashed a grateful smile at Jesse. “That’s fine. I’ll bring it in.”
Jesse pushed back his chair and stood up, lean and lanky in his jeans and flannel shirt. “Come on, George. Time for the men to put their feet up.” He waited by Clare’s father’s chair as the older man mentally regrouped. It was an almost physical act for George to retreat from his thoughts about his deceased wife and pay attention to the here and now, but he finally dropped his napkin next to his plate, rose, and allowed Jesse to usher him out of the room.
Clare finished her dinner in silence. It was sweet of Jesse to be so protective of her. What she hadn’t told him, because she was a grown woman now and no one needed to know, was that the thought of seeing Lexi again thrilled her—and made her just a little nervous.
TWELVE
Clare was in the kitchen above her shop, banging around pots and stainless-steel mixing bowls and whisks and ladles and spoons. In the spring, she always cleaned out the shop’s kitchen, repainted the walls, and scrubbed the very back inches of every cupboard, shelf, and drawer, but she never did it this early in the spring. Since she woke up this morning, she’d wrestled with herself like a cartoon split personality, half of her desperate to get out the door, the other half trying to force her to stay. Now she was here, so she might as well use all this crazy energy to accomplish something. She tossed a mix of CDs into her player—Faith Hill, U2, Alanis Morissette—so the music could rev up her blood and lighten her mood, and she worked fast and efficiently, but deep inside she remained seriously cranky.
She felt so damned childish! She felt like Lexi would think Clare was in her shop because she’d heard that Lexi had rented the space next door and that Clare was so pathetically eager to see Lexi again that she’d come down to the shop and was making all this noise so Lexi would know she was here!
And that was true.
How embarrassing!
Ever since she’d heard of Lexi’s return to the island, Clare’s emotions had frothed like cream in a double boiler. Bubbles circled to the surface—excitement—Lexi! Her Lexi! Here again! Then Pop! Lexi, snotty Lexi, bad Lexi, gorgeous Lexi, shooting Clare a look that would make a giraffe feel short. Clare screamed along to Alanis Morissette’s “You Ought to Know” as she pushed and pulled one of the work stations away from the kitchen wall.
A moment of silence fell when the song ended and in that silence, someone said, “Hello.”
“Aah!” Startled, Clare stumbled backward, knocking her elbow on the wall.
Right there in the doorway between the kitchen and the packaging room stood Lexi, all grown up and looking like three hundred million dollars. Her shoulder-length white-blond hair was sliced in a sharp blunt cut that gave her a trendy, urban air, not that she needed it, wearing those hip-hugging black stovepipe pants with the ornate beaded belt and a cashmere cardigan sweater. It looked like her boots had seven-inch heels, but that was only because Lexi was so tall and thin. Just a slice of her sleek belly peeked between sweater and pants, a fad that Clare considered one of the fashion world’s most significant errors of judgment, but on Lexi even this looked good.
Clare thought how she must look to Lexi in her old baggy athletic pants and one of Jesse’s faded blue work shirts, unironed, her normal cleaning garb. Her brown hair was rumpled and she hadn’t bothered to put on lipstick.
Oh, very nice, she told herself. You came here expecting to see Lexi, so you made yourself look as sloppy as possible. How perfectly self-defeating.
Alanis started yelling about something being perfect. Clare stabbed the Off button and the room went quiet.
“How did you get in here?”
Lexi produced a shy smile. “Through the connecting door.” She waved her hand vaguely toward the wall.
Clare bent to drop the sponge in the bucket, to grab a moment to hide her confusion. “You might have phoned first.”
“Um, but your sign says Closed. I didn’t know you were going to be here until I heard the music.” She hesitated, then said in a rush. “I rented the place next door. I’m going to live upstairs, and have a shop downstairs. I … I didn’t know this was your shop.”
Clare squinted her eyes at Lexi. “It’s called Sweet Hart’s and you didn’t guess?”
Lexi blushed. “Well, I suppose I assumed … but that’s not why I rented this particular space. It’s just so perfect for what I need.” She shifted her weight, flapping her hands around awkwardly like she’d done when she was younger. She looked like a stork on roller skates. Like she always had. “You look great, Clare.”
Clare bridled. “Right. I’m a fashion classic.”
Lexi waved her hand again. “I me
an, not your clothes, I mean, we all look like that when we clean, I mean, you just look great. Happy. Healthy.”
“Well.” Clare rubbed an imaginary spot on the counter. “You look good yourself. Sensational, actually.”
“I look like a moron,” Lexi corrected. “High-heeled boots on cobblestone streets? What was I thinking?”
Clare grinned in spite of herself at the thought of Lexi stumbling her way over the brick sidewalks and cobblestones in those boots, flapping her hands for balance.
Her smile encouraged Lexi. “Hey, would you like to … maybe some coffee?”
Clare paused. “Well … I could use some coffee right now.” She stripped off her rubber gloves.
“Oh!” Lexi jerked her head, did a kind of full body quiver, and waved both hands. “I don’t have any coffee! I don’t have any cups, either. I mean, I just got here yesterday and the movers are coming today and I haven’t been to the grocery store …”
Clare tried to work up some resentment because wasn’t it clever how Lexi had manipulated things so that Clare had to be the one to serve Lexi, but after all, the Lexi she’d known, the old Lexi, was always going off half-assed like this.
Plus, as she moved around the kitchen, Clare was secretly pleased at this opportunity to show off her shop. She might look like the bottom of a bedroom slipper, but her shop and its upstairs quarters looked great. The kitchen, except for the island she’d pulled out from the wall, was tidy and spotless. She glided from cupboard to counter, grinding the beans, organizing the coffeemaker, filling the creamer with fresh cream, setting everything on a vintage Coca-Cola tray.
She carried everything through the door into the larger packaging room. Near the windows overlooking the street she’d made a kind of employees’ lounge, with a small sofa, two overstuffed chairs, and a coffee table piled with the latest magazines—People and US as well as Gourmet, Bon Appetit, and Chocolatier.
Lexi scanned the work table, piled high with glossy dark green boxes waiting to be folded. “I like your design. Very clever.”
Summer Beach Reads Page 72